Reconciliations
by Cerulean Dusk
Summary: Post Grave Danger: The team's actions and reactions. WIP.
1. Catherine

Disclaimer - The plot and the character development in the subsequent story are the only elements there within that I can rightfully call my own; all else belongs to the group of capable people who produce CSI. Hence, they are, justifiably, millionaires, and I will never be financed by my shameless use of their creations.

* * *

When Nick was in the coffin, I wasn't like this.

Then, it was all fear. _Get him out get him out get him out_...

And, as painful as it was, I think I preferred it. Because it made me a decent person.

Now that Nick is safe, the fear's slipping away. It's turning into an aspect of that memory that I can perceive and quantify, instead of being an active feeling that skewed my perception.

And less decent parts of me are starting to notice things now that it's under control.

Three years ago, Nick was in danger, and I was the one who noticed the Crime Stopper article in the background of Nigel Crane's video tape.

A few nights ago, Nick was in danger.

And Grissom found fire ants.

Sara found their nursery.

Doc Robbins found a cecum.

Mia found Kelly Gordon.

Warrick found Walter Gordon's Ford.

Archie found the web cam's trace.

Greg found the prototype coffin.

_Hodges_ found semtex.

I... I found some white fibres and then ran to My Father The Un-convicted Murder. To ask for a million dollars.

_You're sitting here like Jack Handy with your deep thoughts, staring at a coffee cup._ _You got a better plan, I'm all ears._ In other words, Grissom, you're acting like a scientist, and I can't, right now.

I back my head against the seat of my car as I wonder what happened to the woman who, five years ago, told Holly Gribbs that CSI _solve_. Who called herself a kid who got paid to work on puzzles.

I wouldn't have thought to use the backhoe. And Warrick ignored me. He only stepped away from Nick when Grissom told him to.

And that's what it really comes down to – I shut my eyes as my fingers knead my forehead – I'm never going to be as good as him.

Grissom, who stopped to think about how it would look if Sam Braun bribed the lab.

Who could still think about things like _Short bursts, Greg. Don't suffocate him!_ when Nick was almost _out_.

Who could make Warrick step up and out and away from Nick by telling him to _Just trust me_.

Who thought to call him _Pancho_.

And I can't pretend that Grissom can do it because he doesn't care as much as I do.

Because I know he does. And I know it bothers me when other people – who don't know him well enough – can't see it.

_The position calls for leadership, Catherine. You have to inspire others, solve problems, which means you have to leave your own problems at home._

You wouldn't think, even after knowing him for a good period of time, that he'd given it that much thought.

I almost wish I'd started under Ecklie. So much less to live up to.

And some of his bitterness would probably have rubbed off too, so I'd be too busy hating Gil to notice how brilliant he is. But I wouldn't be good at my job.

I find the fact that that still matters to me reassuring, somehow.

As long as I'm better than Ecklie, I can stand being worse than Gil.

I exhale, somewhat explosively. This is pathetic. I make myself stop thinking, and I open my eyes to stare at Nick's house.

I still haven't worked up the courage to get out of my car. And I've been parked here for almost fifteen minutes.

Sitting in the ambulance, I'd just _acted_. Relief-provoked impulses that weren't wrong because they all stemmed from unsullied, genuine happiness: Nick was there. Alive.

Now, however, he's home from the hospital, and I'm visiting. _Checking up on him_. Whole different ball game.

_What should I do? What should I say? What will he think?_

_What did I really do to save him? I don't deserve to be the one standing on his doorstep._

I clench my teeth, jab my thumb into the seatbelt button, and snap the car door open. _You're his friend and supervisor. In that order. Just ring the damn bell, Catherine._


	2. Sara

I make myself ignore the street's shadowy patches.

They don't frighten me.

Not. Scared.

I refuse to be.

If you let the fear in, it changes you, and then the bad guys win. And the bad guys should never have any influence over how you live your life.

_There were shadows when Nick was abducted._

Of course there were. Swing shift works late too.

_It's darker when you work._

Why the fuck do you think it's called the Graveyard Shift? I would have walked before Walter Gordon took Nick, so I'll walk now.

_He could have taken you._

I am _aware_ of the fact that he was out to get all of CSI, not just Nick.

_Lucky he did. _You_ wouldn't have lasted._

Nick is _no_ more resilient than I am.

_Of course not. But, you have to admit, he had a whole lot more to live for._

And that's where the conversation in my head comes to an abrupt halt.

Usually.

The dialogue has varying lengths depending on my mood. For instance, it delved into whole new depths after the Donna Marks case.

It's been getting harder and harder to stop, lately. And it's taking a lot of effort to hold it back right now.

Because, when Grissom clicked WATCH, I realised that I hadn't been his friend for months.

_Evenin', Sara._

_Hey, have you seen Catherine?_

_Pass me that swab?_

_See you, Sara._

The Alicia Perez case.

That was the last time I _talked_ to him. He, Warrick, Catherine, and I went out for breakfast after shift, Catherine and Warrick left early, and Nick and I stayed for about half an hour after that – a decent conversation – and then we retired to our respective homes.

And I can't even remember what we talked about. Just that I left content and happy.

While Nick was in the coffin, I could make myself ignore the panic that this realisation provoked. There was a _case_ to work on.

Besides, suppressing difficult emotions is something I'm really good at.

But, as the ambulance drove away – _I want my guys back_ – taking him and Warrick and Catherine with it the panic came again.

And I really, _really_, was not prepared for how hard it hit me.

But now all _Grissom_ has to do is battle Ecklie.

_I_ have to repair friendships.

Which is something I'm really bad at.

I'm not a people person. And I sleep during the day: All of the people that I like to call my friends, in Las Vegas, anyway, work in the same building.

And, close and distant, they all mean a lot to me. So how, _how_ had I let three of them just... slip away?

_You got caught up in other things, Sara._

Funny how, whenever I reprimand myself, it's with Grissom's voice.

And, as usual, he's right.

There is one insidious, impossible to suppress, self-destructive portion of my personality that didn't hate that Ecklie split us up.

_More Grissom time. And I'm the only girl._

It disgusts me.

It's that same part of me that wants to throw Sophia into a wall every time she smiles at him in a certain way. Or scratch at Catherine when the intensity of their _longstanding_, private and personal friendship becomes too apparent.

It's the part of my mind that wanders treacherously from "what is this blood spatter telling me?" to "what could I say about it that would impress him?"

It's the part of me that, after I'd told him about my parents, had to effrontery to take note of the sensation of his hand on mine.

It _loved_ that Catherine and Warrick and Nick were gone. It practically threw a small party.

And then there was Greg.

With his jokes and his inappropriate comments and his eager enthusiasm and his ability to laugh the depression right out of our job.

Teaching him made me experience everything for the first time all over again. And, peripherally, it made me utterly sure that, despite the too many, too complicated reasons that I moved to this city, I really do love being a CSI.

And so does Greg.

And that, among a million other things, made me respect him. Which, I think, made him respect me. Which lead to one of the easiest friendships I have ever been a part of.

I think he might have filled the void that Catherine, Warrick, and Nick left so quickly, that I didn't even realise what was happening.

Enter a jealousy-provoking-but-likeable Sophia – add more of Grissom – and it's easy to understand how I got distracted.

But this week's rationalisation isn't making me feel any better.

Nothing like realising that something's gone to make you miss it even more.

_I have to do something about this. I need to._

And now, as I turn the corner to Nick's street, I see Catherine, in the middle of the road.

"Catherine!" My voice is way too scratchy.

She jumps, way too startled. "_Sara_. God."

The only reason that I'm able to say it is because I'm far too emotional at the moment. "Catherine I'm sorry..."

_What the hell are you doing? This is so out of the blue. Where's your pride?_

_Fuck my pride._

_She'll see right through this. She'll think that she gets you. That she _understands_ you._

_Shut. Up._

"...during the Svetlana Melton case, when I... when I said that your... that you had bad judgement about men. I was out of line. I was..." _say it say it say i-_ "...wrong."

Catherine blinks at me, taken aback. She looks like she's changing about a thousand gears. Understandably. "Sara... we've moved past that."

"I know, but, we never... I never said anything. And I... I just needed you to know that I don't actually... think that. I was upset."

Catherine watches me for a _long_ moment. There is very little that I hate more than this feeling. When the other person has all the power over you.

She finally talks, in as hesitant a voice as I've been using. "Well... while we're... doing this. During Eddie's case... I told you that you weren't doing your job properly. I... I don't think that either."

"Oh... Catherine... Eddie had just _died_... and Lindsey... You were upset, and..." I trail off, realising how she must have felt.

There is a tiny smile on her face. It's hopeful and, at the same time, it's almost teasing both of us.

I'm definitely embarrassed now, but, somehow, I'm too happy to care.

Her tiny smile evolves into something bigger. "Good. So. We respect each other. That's settled then."

I laugh as my head falls forward, my fingers rubbing over my eyes. "I'm glad. And... I'm sure there'll be times when I'll get just as pissed in the future. This is how I _really_... feel. Just... so you know."

Catherine actually grins. "Ditto. Us girls have to stick together."

I feel a twinge of irritation that, while small, is nevertheless perceptible. I will _never_ stop hating it when girls use their gender to skip steps or to make exceptions. In any situation. And I've _never_ been good or comfortable with this... female bonding stuff.

But I can't end this on a bad note. So I opt for honesty.

"Catherine..." I can see her smile sort of... hesitate, "I respect you because you're you. The fact that we're both girls has nothing to do with it."

She watches me like I'm a puzzle that she has the last pieces to. After about three seconds, the smile comes back, I relax, and she gives my shoulder a quick squeeze.

"Okay." Her tone of voice is... thoughtful is the only word that I can think of right now.

I haven't been this relaxed since before Nick was taken. We both turn towards his house and I hear her exhale softly.

I tilt my head in her direction as we start to walk. "So, have _you_ thought of what to say yet?"

"Not a thing."

"Damn."

* * *

Thank you so much for the reviews. They mean a lot to me.

BashirXena – Sorry, it'll be a bit of a wait! But you will find out, I promise.

NicoleDiver – Thanks for letting me know; I _can't_ believe I made that mistake. I _hate_ people who misspell names. hangs head in shame

Everybetty – Heh, I'm assuming you're a Sara fan?

KASEY(KC – I _know_. GD has so much unrealised character development potential. It's gorgeous.

DaVinci13 – I don't know about another GD fic, but I am planning to make this multi-chaptered.


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